


Some Magical Occurrence

by Drenagon



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 20:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17107775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drenagon/pseuds/Drenagon
Summary: Bilbo could use some magic if he's going to get the annual Christmas event at Goldmine Books to run as planned.Instead he has Bofur, Ori and a serious case of building panic.Then the Durins arrive.





	Some Magical Occurrence

**Author's Note:**

> a) Happy Christmas!  
> b) To all those who've left me lovely comments over the last few months, thank you. I hope you enjoy this present in return.  
> c) This is meant to be the fic equivalent of a Christmas film. Neither reality nor logic enter into the equation much. Please suspend disbelief... now. Thank you.

Some Magical Occurrence

‘So, essentially, you’re telling me that we have no staff?’ Bilbo clarified, clutching at the wooden checkout counter with white-knuckled hands.

His tone was perhaps a little more abrupt than he intended it to be, but that happened at 6am when you’d just received the worst possible news you could get.

‘Now, darlin’, don’t be like that,’ Bofur countered, seemingly as unruffled as ever despite the utter catastrophe. ‘There’s Ori, isn’t there?’ He gestured at the lad in question, who was backed up against a wall, in between two bookshelves, either attempting to hide between them or to disappear through the wall via a spontaneous magical occurrence.

Bilbo wouldn’t mind a magical occurrence or two himself right now.

Perhaps the sort that _delivered some of his blasted staff to the shop_.

‘Oh yes, Ori!’ he replied. ‘Ori, who’s been with us a month. The newest of our new temporary staff. Well, that makes it all better, doesn’t it?’

Bofur’s easy-going, unruffled expression dropped momentarily.

‘ _Bilbo_ ,’ he said warningly. ‘Perhaps you’d like to remember which of our staff turned up to work at 5.30am this Saturday morning, rather than calling in sick, or hungover, or halfway to Lanzarote on a surprise elopement…’

Bilbo took two deep breaths, scolded himself for being an arsehole, and gave Ori a sincere – if slightly weak – smile.

‘I’m sorry, Ori,’ he said, far more calmly. ‘Bofur’s right. I appreciate that you’re here, really I do.’

‘I wouldn’t just not turn up today,’ Ori said quietly. ‘Today’s important.’

‘Yes,’ Bofur said, and his smile had a great deal more strength behind it, ‘it is. Which is why Bombur was mortified when Nula went into labour a month early, Bilbo, especially when this would have been his first time catering for us, but…’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Bofur,’ Bilbo sighed in reply. ‘I know I’ve been a little single-minded about all of this, but even I don’t expect your brother to miss the birth of his child to cater an event at a bookstore! You know I’m delighted that they’re making you an uncle for… what is this, the sixth time now?’

‘That’s it,’ Bofur agreed, full-on grinning at this point. ‘Who knows, after that many, Nula will probably have it done in half an hour and send him off to sort the food after all!’

Bilbo made a rude noise in response to that nonsense and tried desperately to think of a logical solution to his problems. Honestly, he felt like he was in some ridiculous comedy. Every year this Christmas event at Goldmine Books apparently went off without a hitch in the meticulous planning but now…

Now that it was Bilbo’s turn to run the event on his own for the first time… with a Deputy Manager even newer than he was…

Had all the problems just been storing themselves up for this year?

‘My brother can bake,’ Ori almost-whispered into the silence. Both Bilbo and Bofur whipped around to look at him with laser-beam stares, and the poor lad nearly tumbled back into the wall in an attempt to escape.

‘Dori?’ Bilbo asked curiously, trying for mild interest rather than absolutely desperate hope. He’d met Dori once, when he came to meet Ori after work, and the other man had struck him as extremely competent.

‘Oh no,’ Ori answered. ‘Well, yes, Dori _can_ bake, but I meant Nori. He’s much better.’

‘The shady one?’ Bofur and Bilbo queried in chorus, with varying levels of disbelief. Ori looked immediately and huffily offended (and rather like his eldest brother, all of a sudden).

‘He is NOT shady,’ Ori told them indignantly. ‘People just say that because of his hair and his tattoos.’

 _And his arrest record_ , Bilbo couldn’t help adding mentally. It wasn’t that he’d deliberately investigated the families of his temporary Christmas staff – goodness, how on earth would he have had the time? – but Bofur knew everyone, and he did like to talk…

‘I think the main question is, do we really want to be completely without food when the wondrous family of Durin turns up for their yearly mingle with the unwashed masses,’ Bofur pointed out tartly, raising both eyebrows at Bilbo in a ridiculous fashion.

‘I am _never_ unwashed,’ Bilbo replied with even greater asperity, making Ori giggle for several seconds. Then he added, ‘but no, probably not. Still, it’s a lot to ask of Ori’s brother if he doesn’t do this sort of thing normally and we haven’t got much to offer him.’

‘Bombur has a kitchen that’s made grown men cry with joy,’ Bofur reminded him, ‘and he’d already bought all the ingredients Nori would need. It’s fully stocked. Ori could at least ask him.’

‘He can’t bake really fancy stuff,’ Ori caveated, looking suddenly nervous again, ‘but it’ll look quite pretty, and it’ll taste wonderful. He’s done things for friends’ weddings before, that’s why I offered. I know he can do big numbers.’

‘Would he agree to it?’ Bilbo asked, already half-convinced just at the idea of _actually having food_ when his customers turned up this afternoon for the main event. What was the point of advertising complementary cakes if you ended up providing complementary fresh air instead?

‘He will if I ask him to,’ Ori assured Bilbo with great conviction. Bilbo didn’t think he’d ever been that sure of someone else’s cooperation in his life, but Bofur didn’t bat an eyelid so Bilbo put it down as a younger brother thing.

‘Then, please, ask him,’ Bilbo all-but begged. Ori immediately pulled out his phone, tapped a couple of times and walked away from them already saying, ‘Hi! Yeah, I know it’s early, but you love me really. And I need you to do something for me…’

‘Alright, what’s my task then?’ Bofur questioned, turning back to Bilbo with an expectant look.

‘What I keep you around for, of course,’ Bilbo replied, pausing as he finally released his grip on the counter with a pained wince and tried to get feeling back into his hands.

Bofur looked around the empty shop with deliberately obvious confusion. ‘No one here to charm,’ he pointed out.

‘Shoving furniture around,’ Bilbo finished, rolling his eyes. ‘You think far too highly of yourself,’ he informed his best friend firmly. ‘Come on, move it. We’ve only solved one problem so far.’

***

When Bilbo had applied for the job at Goldmine Books, a little over a year ago, he’d been sold on the idea because he loved visiting their shops. They were neat and tidy in a way that appealed to his neat and tidy soul, but still with the old-style feel that had gone out of fashion in the bigger national chains. It was a feel created by big wooden bookcases, nooks where you could sit and read that felt comfortable and tucked away, and stock that made an effort at having complete series on the shelf.

The latter might have been a pet peeve of Bilbo’s, rather than a bookstore requirement, but it still helped make his mind up.

It seemed to help with other customers too, because Goldmine was managing to hold on somehow despite being small for a national chain; just one in each major city and a few of the bigger towns – and then Bilbo’s store, in this small town in the West Midlands.

Where it all began.

It was no longer their flagship store, but Bilbo had been told back when he started that the family (now living in Edinburgh, for reasons Bilbo wasn’t entirely sure of) still considered this to be home.

They kept a house here, visited when they could. Made themselves popular in the area by shopping locally and getting involved.

And every year, at Christmas, they held the company’s big holiday event here.

It wasn’t exactly red-carpet stuff. You weren’t going to find J.K. Rowling or Neil Gaiman rocking up at the door, but there were a few local celebrities who made a point of coming, especially the ones with children. It was the biggest event of Bilbo’s calendar, as the store manager, and it attracted a good chunk of local shoppers through his doors on the day.

The fact that each of the Durins who showed up were drop-dead gorgeous in their own way, and most of them single, might also have helped the event’s appeal… or so Bilbo had heard via his staff.

Last year, trying to learn as much as possible from the previous store manager before she left the next day, he didn’t remember even approaching Goldmine’s first family.

He was sure he had. He might even have been introduced to them.

He certainly knew what they looked like, but then their photos were on the company website, so it was equally possible that the knowledge had sunk in by osmosis when he’d been clicking around on there.

Anyway, the main point was that he’d been busy working out how to run their event, so he could do it just as well this year, rather than flirting with any potentially attractive company owners.

Much good that had done him.

All his plans were going to hell in a handbasket now, with most of his staff buggered off elsewhere and a list twice his length of stuff that needed doing before 1.30pm, when he opened the doors.

He’d have been better off flirting with Thorin Durin.

Perhaps then the man would have forgiven him for cocking everything up.

Then again, knowing Bilbo’s luck he’d have been straight and would have arrived this year with a grudge and a strong desire to punch Bilbo for his cheek.

Oh Christ, this really wasn’t helping. He was going to hyperventilate in a moment.

‘Okay, now breathe, darlin’,’ the most familiar voice in his life said, as a broad hand came to rest on his back. ‘In, and out. Slowly. That’s better. Honestly, can’t leave you alone for five seconds.’

‘It’s going to be a disaster,’ Bilbo told Bofur in a voice so small he didn’t recognise it.

‘It is _not_ going to be a disaster,’ Bofur told him staunchly. ‘It’s only,’ he checked his watch, ‘6.45. We’ve got loads of time. You’ll see. It’ll work out.’

‘Through the magic of Christmas?’ Bilbo queried, perhaps a little more bitterly than he meant to.

‘Through my blood, sweat and tears, probably,’ Bofur replied cheerfully, prodding Bilbo as he did so. ‘Isn’t that how everything gets done around here? Right, Sergeant Major Baggins, I’ve cleared the area for the platform but the stage itself hasn’t arrived yet. What’s my next job?’

Bilbo closed his eyes, running through his mental list and ticking off what they’d already done. He refused to panic when he realised how little that was in comparison to the ‘yet to be done’ section.

‘Help Ori move the tables for the food towards the back of the shop,’ he ordered, calm once again. ‘Allan and Rob were in such a hurry to leave last night, they just set them up next to the door. It’ll cause the worst traffic jam in history if we leave them there. Besides, I want people to have to walk _past_ the books to get to the food. They’re supposed to be buying stock, not eating and then leaving because of the crush.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Bofur said, snapping a salute and heading off once more. Bilbo headed for the stockroom to get a ladder. They turned the Children’s Section into a winter wonderland, as far as they could, for the Durins’ big moment later in the afternoon. He needed lots of fairy lights.

Also nerves of steel, about five more inches in height and someone to hold the ladder… but he’d take the fairy lights.

***

By 10am, it was beginning to look a lot like someone had chucked the contents of Santa’s grotto at Bilbo’s shop (in the most tasteful possible manner, of course) and he felt calm enough to take a five-minute breather in the back of the shop, on a comfy chair in their little break room.

Ori had worked his socks off all morning and Bilbo was about to give him Employee of the Year based solely on this one day. The lad did as he was told, never complained and asked sensible questions when necessary.

Actually, at this point, Bilbo was seriously tempted to propose.

It was possible he was going a bit loopy.

Banging on the back door, scaring the living daylights out of him, didn’t help with that at all.

‘Who the hell…’ he muttered to himself, as he shoved himself off the chair. He met Bofur in the hallway, with Ori in tow, just as Bilbo was adding, ‘Don’t be the Durins coming early, please don’t be the Durins coming early.’

‘If it is, perhaps you shouldn’t be muttering pleas to the heavens when we open the door, love,’ Bofur suggested wryly.

‘It’s Dori,’ Ori announced, making Bilbo wonder if he added prophecy to his list of talents. Bilbo must have looked as confused as he felt, because Ori held his phone up in explanation. ‘He texted to say he was bringing you some of Nori’s baking to try. Also, I told him we hadn’t had breakfast, and he didn’t think that was a good plan.’

‘Your brother strikes me as a man of great good sense,’ Bofur said decidedly, yanking the door open after unlocking it. ‘Come on in, my new favourite person,’ he proclaimed. ‘Give me your baked goods, so I can decide whether I need to ravish your brother or not.’

‘If you ravish my brother, I will most certainly _not_ be your favourite person,’ Dori said primly as he walked past them all, his tone a wonderful contrast to the expertly bitchy glare he offered Bofur. ‘I accept no ravishing of either younger brother until a full vetting process has been completed.’

Ori looked up at the ceiling and mouthed something that Bilbo couldn’t lipread from where he stood. In response, Dori snorted. Bilbo immediately concluded that the man had eyes in the back of his head.

‘Nori talks a load of rubbish,’ Dori informed Ori, even as he entered the break room and put a covered tray of small cakes and pastries on the table. ‘The way he goes on, you’d think he had a harem in town. I know perfectly well he didn’t actually lose his virginity until he was 22, so he can stop trying to convince me that he’s the Whore of Babylon any time now.’

Bilbo choked on the laughter that tried to escape, certain that it wasn’t appropriate. Dori, seeming to remember that he was having this conversation in front of Ori’s temporary-boss, blushed bright pink.

‘Can we just pretend I said something very appropriate instead?’ he asked Bilbo, a little stiffly. ‘Like, “You should eat something if you’re going to be on your feet all day. Try these and see what you think.” That’s certainly what I planned to say when I arrived.’

‘Of course,’ Bilbo assured him. ‘I call it the “Bofur Effect”, by the way. You have perfectly good intentions for the conversation and it goes completely off track the moment he opens his mouth.’

‘Oi!’ Bofur protested, sounding very insulted. ‘I keep telling you, I add _charm_.’

‘Yes,’ Bilbo said, with faux-weariness. ‘You do keep telling me. I’m not entirely sure why you think repetition is going to make me believe you, but you do keep telling me.’

‘Cheeky bugger,’ Bofur grumbled, but Ori was giggling again as he reached for a pastry, Dori no longer looked mortally embarrassed and, when Bilbo bit into his own mini-scone, he found it was heavenly. A little misshapen, but still heavenly. That was worth a two-minute spell of grumpiness from Bofur.

Bilbo surveyed the rest of the tray of baking and concluded that, while it wasn’t up to Bombur’s standard, it would certainly do in a pinch. Especially if everything tasted as good as that scone. He was reaching out to taste-test another offering when Dori caught his eye.

‘He gets better at the appearance as he gets into the swing of it,’ the eldest brother offered. ‘These were from his first batch. He won’t embarrass you tonight.’

‘Dori, your brother is doing me a huge favour,’ Bilbo protested. ‘A favour I’ll need to work out how to repay tomorrow, when I have more than ten minutes at a time to think. I wouldn’t dream of criticising.’

‘No, but I know how important this event is in this town,’ Dori said gently. ‘I brought Ori every year when he was small; for us it was the proper start to Christmas. It’s why he applied to work here.’ Bilbo looked at Ori in surprise. Ori certainly hadn’t mentioned that at his brief interview, or in the time he’d worked here. Although, Bilbo did leave a lot of the people management to Bofur. He wasn’t the best with people, especially when he was stressed.

Christmas was a very stressful time of year to do anything, but particularly run a shop.

‘You weren’t going to give me the job just because I loved coming here at Christmas,’ Ori pointed out to Bilbo with a shrug, and Bilbo nodded to acknowledge the point.

‘Anyway,’ Dori continued, ‘I know you won’t want that lot,’ he waved his hand to signal the outside world, ‘posting pictures on Twitter or whatever, complaining that it’s not as good as it used to be. So does Nori. He’s determined these are going to be as good as anything he’s ever done.’

‘We appreciate that,’ Bofur answered, when Bilbo found himself momentarily lost for words. ‘As we’ll tell him when he arrives later. For now, I’m going to appreciate him by eating a few more of these amazing fairy cake things, and take a picture so I can complain to my brother that he never makes me anything like them…’

‘Perhaps **not** while his wife’s in the middle of giving birth, Bofur,’ Bilbo interjected, when Bofur appeared to be about to send the message there and then. Bofur paused.

‘Lots of boring waiting around when you’re not the one who’s in labour,’ he said tentatively to the others in the room.

Three heads shook ‘no’ in firm unison.

‘Oh, alright then, I’ll save it for later,’ he conceded, slipping the phone back into his pocket. Bilbo briefly considered confiscating it just in case, but he thought even Bofur might struggle to forgive him if Bilbo was the reason he missed the announcement of the baby’s birth.

‘I’d better get back to Nori and see if he needs anything,’ Dori stated, stealing one more pastry before he did so. ‘Thank goodness it’s Saturday and I’m done for the week.’ He reached over and kissed Ori absently on the cheek, not seeming to notice his brother’s embarrassment, then headed for the door.

‘Thank goodness indeed,’ Bilbo murmured to himself. ‘Otherwise we couldn’t hijack your entire family to keep this show running,’ he told Ori, ‘and right now they’re saving my bacon. Now, what’s next?’

***

11am, and Bilbo was right back to the ‘nervous wreck’ stage again. He paced back and forth around the Children’s Section while Bofur and Ori both looked on, Ori wide-eyed and Bofur mildly concerned.

‘Where the _hell_ are they?’ he fumed, practically spitting feathers. ‘Without that stage we can’t do anything else in here! I can’t set up the AV equipment, I can’t finish decorating, I can’t lay out the special displays because they’ll get in the way of the delivery, I can’t do ANYTHING without that blasted stage and they’re _late_ and they’re _not answering my calls_ , damnit!’

‘You’re really very highly strung, aren’t you?’ Bofur said, when Bilbo paused for breath. Bilbo turned, picked up the cloth he’d been using to polish the Christmas tree ornaments to a shine (mostly for something to do as he waited and _waited_ ) and threw it at Bofur as hard as he could.

It dropped to the floor less than halfway between them, with a soft swooshing noise.

Bilbo looked at the cloth, then at Bofur – whose eyes were twinkling merrily – and then at the cloth again.

Then he collapsed into hysterical laughter. Bofur’s chuckling joined him a second later, followed by Ori’s charming little giggle a moment after.

‘Oh god, I hate waiting,’ Bilbo moaned. ‘I know I’m being ridiculous, but I hate waiting for something that should be here. The time’s just disappearing and there’s so much to do and…’

‘And none of it can be done until they arrive, so all the fussing and fretting and pacing in the world is going to do nothing but wear you out,’ Ori contributed, surprisingly, hopping up onto an empty table they’d need to move (hopefully sooner rather than later). ‘Mr Baggins,’ Bofur gave him a look and Ori corrected himself, ‘Bilbo, it will either come or it won’t. Give them another 30 minutes. If it’s not here by then, we do it all without the stage and people will just have to be a bit more considerate about where they stand. They didn’t have a stage when I was little and it still worked.’

‘We are not letting go of him after Christmas,’ Bilbo told Bofur, only half-joking. ‘Quit your other job and come to work for me full-time,’ Bilbo commanded Ori in the same tone, as he copied Ori’s pose and perched on a table to wait.

If he hadn’t been watching closely, he wouldn’t have seen the spark of hope in Ori’s eyes at his words, but he did see it.

He spent the next 20 minutes, as they waited on the blasted delivery, making plans.

There’d be a way to keep Ori on full-time if he wanted it. Bilbo just had to work out what it was.

***

12pm, with the stage _finally_ assembled - by a completely unrepentant delivery crew from a company that Bilbo would not be using next year, thank you very much - and Bilbo was desperately trying to get everything back on track.

The Durins were due to arrive at 1pm, to give themselves 30 minutes to settle in and… do whatever it was they felt they needed to do before the doors opened. After that, they’d be busy shaking hands and chatting to people, while Bilbo tried to manage a flood of customers at the tills with only two other staff on hand.

Not thinking about it. Not. Thinking. About. It.

At least they were now mostly at the finishing touches point; Ori and Bilbo prettying things up and tidying other things away while Bofur dealt with the sound system they would use later. It all looked very complicated to Bilbo, though Bofur assured him it wasn’t at all, so Bilbo was keeping well out of it.

It wasn’t even 12.30pm when three things happened simultaneously.

Ori announced, ‘Nori’s here with the food!’

There were three sharp raps on the front door.

And Bofur gave a loud curse as the small stage collapsed beneath him.

Bilbo froze for two long seconds, trying to decide which fire to deal with first.

Then he reminded himself that he was supposed to be in charge and it would help if he acted like it.

‘Bofur, are you alright?’ he called worriedly, heading towards the stage, even as the person at the door knocked again.

‘Fine, I’m fine, nothing’s broken but the stage,’ Bofur replied, though he sounded more irritated than Bilbo had ever heard him. He waved at himself in a “see, nothing to worry about” gesture, and Bilbo scanned him once before deciding to take him at his word.

‘Ori, go and let your brother in and help him lay the food out, please,’ Bilbo requested, then turned towards the door as their visitors knocked a third time. He didn’t even bother with _please don’t be the Durins_. He wasn’t that lucky, and no potential customer was that persistent.

When he pulled the door open, he realised he was right.

The blast of concentrated beauty he was hit with could only belong to his bosses.

‘He… Hello,’ he spluttered inelegantly, giving a little cough mid-word. ‘Please come in.’

‘Is everything alright?’ Dís Durin asked with concern. ‘Have we come at a bad time? I know we said 1pm but everything’s usually ready by now.’ Stunning though she was – with expertly-styled dark hair, and casual clothes that fit so well and were of such good quality that she still looked ready for a catwalk – she might as well have stabbed Bilbo in the heart.

‘Just a few arrangements to finalise,’ Bilbo tried, stepping back to let them pass. The young, dark-haired man who looked so like Dís would be Kíli, then, and the blonde would be his brother, Fíli. Which left the fourth Durin, the one who’d had Bilbo practically swallowing his own tongue, as Thorin.

Good God, was looking that good in a pair of dark jeans and a green jumper legal in Britain? Or having a smile that warm, a smile that made the person’s eyes light up as if they were happy to see you and the smile was just for you?

It seemed like the sort of thing there’d be laws about. For road safety, if nothing else. How many traffic collisions did this lot cause when they were out together in public? Someone should investigate; the government could save a fortune in police time if they were confined to house arrest.

Alternatively, Bilbo could get a grip on himself and try to act like a professional instead of a complete maniac.

‘Bilbo, love, I think the stage might be buggered,’ Bofur called just at that moment.

Bilbo closed his eyes again in his favourite calming technique, at the same time that Thorin Durin said dryly, ‘A few arrangements to finalise?’

‘Yes,’ Bilbo said crisply, snippiness brought to the fore, as it often was, by his anxiety. Also, by his irritation that the Durins hadn’t had the bloody courtesy to come when they said they were coming, and that Bilbo now looked an incompetent fool in front of Thorin Durin, who just had to be so damned gorgeous it hurt. ‘We’re going to finalise whether or not you’re having a stage. If it stays up, congratulations, you are! If not, you can be on the floor with the rest of us hoi polloi!’

He began to march towards Bofur, who still stood next to the collapsed stage, very conscious of the deathly silence behind him, which was broken only by a graceless snort from one of the younger Durins.

Bofur was giving him ‘the look’ again. The same look he’d had when Bilbo snapped at Ori earlier.

‘I know,’ Bilbo murmured under his breath, resting his temple against Bofur’s arm for a moment. ‘I know.’

‘That’s our boss, Bilbo,’ Bofur sighed softly. ‘Come on, you’re letting this get to you far too much. Stuff happens.’

‘It’s…’ Bilbo began, but couldn’t finish. _It’s not just this, it’s him_ , he wanted to say, but he certainly couldn’t do that. Not with the whole family just behind him.

‘I don’t suppose whoever put that up for you left any tools behind,’ Thorin asked, making Bilbo jump. His tone was much cooler than it had been, unsurprisingly, and the man apparently moved like a bloody cat, but he didn’t sound as if he was about to sack Bilbo on the spot.

Thank god for not-so-small mercies.

‘Yes, actually,’ Bilbo answered. ‘Though not on purpose, I don’t think. I tidied them out of the way.’

‘If you can show me where they are then we,’ Thorin gestured at the boys behind him, ‘can probably avoid the hoi polloi a little longer.’ Bilbo looked at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, and Thorin sighed. ‘It won’t be the first stage I’ve constructed, Mr Baggins. We use them for parties at the house sometimes. Tools?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Bilbo said, snapping out his stupor. ‘Sorry, come with me.’

On their way to the store cupboard where Bilbo had shoved the tools, they passed Nori and Ori, struggling with the door and a tray full of food. Nori was looking even more punk than usual, his hair sticking up every which way after a day fighting with ovens, trays, whisks and goodness-knew-what-else.

‘Careful,’ he was hissing to Ori, though Bilbo thought it was concentration rather than annoyance that was making him sound that way. ‘If we ruin any of this then I can’t replace it.’

‘I _know_ ,’ Ori responded, ‘but we need to get everything in so we can arrange it properly on the tables.’

Bilbo made a mental note to come back and help them once he’d dealt with his Durin problem. He was a few more steps down the corridor before he realised one-quarter of said problem was going the wrong way.

‘Mr Durin,’ he called, hurrying back after Thorin. Thorin paid him no attention.

‘Fíli!’ he yelled. ‘Kíli!’

‘Yes, Uncle?’ two voices called back.

‘Come and help these two gentlemen unload the catering van,’ Thorin instructed. Then Thorin looked more closely at what was on the trays, a slight smile gracing his face in a way that made Bilbo’s heart thump inconveniently. ‘Correction,’ he shouted. ‘Come and hold doors open for these two gentlemen so _they_ can unload the catering van. I don’t want the two of you touching anything this delicate.’

‘No faith,’ Fíli Durin said with a fake sniff as he ducked into the back corridor. ‘None. It’s heart-breaking. Your own nephews.’

‘I have too much knowledge to have faith,’ Thorin said cynically, though he gentled it with another smile. ‘Now, be nice to the catering people. They’ve made fairy cakes.’

Kíli, following behind his brother, lit up like Bilbo’s (terribly tasteful) winter wonderland.

‘Fairy cakes!’ he exclaimed, practically bouncing with glee. ‘Nobody’s made fairy cakes at an event in years. How cool is that?!’

‘It’s a children’s Christmas party,’ Nori said, looking slightly confused. ‘What on earth were they serving?’

‘Recently? Fancy. Stuff,’ Kíli said in ominous, mournful tones. ‘Who serves fancy stuff for children?’

‘Idiots,’ Nori concluded decisively. ‘Bombur would have done much better.’

‘I like him,’ Kíli announced to all and sundry, gesturing at Nori. ‘We’re going to get on brilliantly.’ Then, proclamation made, he asked curiously, ‘Who’s Bombur?’

‘Tools?’ Bilbo suggested to Thorin hopefully, feeling that this was all getting a little bit out of hand.

‘Lead the way,’ Thorin concurred. If Bilbo muttered a couple of prayers at the same time, he didn’t think anyone could blame him.

***

When they returned to the shop floor, not too many minutes later, they found Bofur reigning triumphant over the AV kit, and Dís Durin moving around the room in an apparently aimless pattern, tweaking Bilbo’s decorations every time she stopped.

Thorin, who seemed to have forgotten to be irritated with Bilbo somewhere in the back corridor, laughed softly.

‘Just watch,’ he whispered to Bilbo, dropping his head to utter the words right into Bilbo’s ear. His breath rushed over Bilbo’s hair and Bilbo’s knees went all weak and watery.

Bilbo firmly commanded them to get a grip. It was quite bad enough that _he’d_ been a nervous wreck most of the day, in a way that was quite unlike him. He hardly needed his knees to get in on the action.

‘She’ll do this for ten or fifteen minutes,’ Thorin continued, ‘and you’ll think she’s hardly changed anything, but then you’ll look at the room and somehow it will be much better than it was before.’

‘ _I_ decorated it before,’ Bilbo whispered back, though thankfully he did manage to make it sound like a joke this time.

‘And it was lovely,’ Thorin assured him. ‘But Dís is the expert. You’ll see.’

‘Stage?’ Bofur called over encouragingly, eyeing the kit he’d had to remove after the thing gave up the ghost earlier, which really ought to go back on again if they could get it fixed.

Thorin jumped like he’d been shot, moved rapidly away from Bilbo and turned his attention to the stage without saying another word.

Bilbo wasn’t the only one acting oddly.

He wasn’t sure if that made things worse or better.

***

1.20pm and, miracle of Christmas miracles, Bilbo’s shop looked as if it was ready to be invaded. At least the entertainers who came each year were professionals and had arrived exactly on time. They’d set themselves up around the shop where they could keep the children happy while the adults browsed.

One of them was outside, making sure the people queuing up didn’t get bored and decide it wasn’t worth the wait.

Now Bilbo just had to handle 4 hours of ‘children’s shopping’ time, with the Durins' special event in the middle, and then another two opening hours on top of that.

With three staff who’d been in since 5.30am.

Oh, this was going to be blissful.

‘Bilbo,’ Dís asked gently, having dropped “Mr Baggins” some time ago, ‘where are the rest of your staff?’

‘Ah,’ Bilbo answered cagily, wishing he’d had chance to come up with an answer to that question which made him seem a little more competent as a manager, and a little less like he’d been conned by all his employees. ‘We had a rash of sickness at about 5am this morning. Plus one couple who decided a Christmas elopement was just the thing. I need to have a series of HR conversations over the next week; although the one poor girl really is ill, Bofur could tell just from talking to her.’

‘Absolutely full of cold,’ Bofur confirmed. ‘Sounded dreadful all week, so I wasn’t surprised.’

‘Which means the three of you are it?’ Dís confirmed, looking them over carefully, as if she was about to send them into a war zone.

‘Yes, basically,’ Bilbo acknowledged.

‘Good grief,’ Dís responded. ‘I wish I’d realised that 20 minutes ago. Someone had better show me how to use the till. Ori, dearest, you’ve been trained most recently. Come and pass the training along. Thorin, you’re not allowed to fire me from the company if I muck the sales up!’

‘She always says things like this,’ Thorin told the room, though Bilbo did think it was aimed more at him than the rest, perhaps. ‘As if I’m in charge of the company just because my title says CEO. I make a decision at the office and everyone looks at her to check it’s okay before they do it, but she goes on as if I could sack her…’ he trailed off into general grumbling and Fíli and Kíli, apparently having heard this rant before, just made ‘aww’ noises at him.

‘We should check the final programme,’ Bilbo suddenly said, realising he hadn’t done the one thing which had been first on his agenda for when the Durin’s arrived (curse that stage and, well… the universe and everything).

‘Of course,’ Thorin replied, immediately all business again.

‘I’ll open the doors in,’ Bilbo checked his watch and took another calming breath, ‘five minutes, and let everyone in. We’re open for cake, entertainment and shopping for two hours, until 3.30pm. Then from 3.30pm until 3.45pm we stop serving, shut the doors and get everyone settled in the Children’s Section as best we can. Children prioritised, everyone else just has to hope for the best. 3.45pm – c. 4.05pm, Fíli reads the story he’s chosen. Then Kíli’s going to finish with a song, just like always, and we open the doors again and carry on. When we’re open, you’ll all be around to chat with people on the floor… except Dís, who is apparently going to be one of my cashiers today. The entertainers leave at 6pm, and we close at 8pm.’

‘Hallelujah,’ Bofur added very quietly, which made Thorin smile.

‘That’s the plan,’ Thorin agreed.

‘Long live the plan,’ Fíli chimed in.

‘Which will be for about five seconds, based on past experience,’ Kíli added. ‘Still, as long as everyone has fun, we get to talk to lots of people and the little ones get their story, it’s all good.’

***

Kíli’s premonition proved accurate, of course. It was more like 3.40pm by the time they shut the doors, with so many people wanting to dash out so they didn’t get ‘locked in’ during story-time (Bilbo despaired of people, he really did. As if having to listen to a Christmas story was comparable to a night in the nearest high security prison!)

There might also have been several parents with little ones who’d arrived just that bit late, whom Bilbo couldn’t bring himself to turn away… but the less said about that, the better.

No matter, they were here now.

Everyone was settled, mostly quiet, and ready to listen.

Fíli had a very good voice for storytelling, Bilbo decided, as the young man began the tale.

‘Once there was a lonely Dragon. It was lonely because it didn’t meet many people, and when it did it toasted them, and it ate them, which is what Dragons do to stop people stealing their Dragon gold.

One Christmas Day, the Dragon was out for a walk when it saw a village, so it thought it would toast the people and eat them. Puff-puff-puff! it went, warming up. The people saw the puffs, and they all ran away.

All except Imelda.’

There were rapt little faces all over the room as he spoke, doing all the different voices as he built the story to its conclusion. There was more than one rapt adult face as well, but Bilbo didn’t think they were interested in the voices or the story.

He leaned back against Bofur, satisfied with the success of the event so far, and sighed contentedly as he scanned the room again.

When he saw Thorin frowning unhappily, Bilbo frowned himself, wondering what Thorin could see going wrong that he couldn’t.

 _What is it?_ he mouthed across the room, but Thorin shook his head in response, so Bilbo could do nothing but shrug and settle back again.

‘And all thanks to Imelda… and Christmas,’ Fíli finished to cheers from the children and warm applause from the adults, treating them all to another of the unfairly attractive smiles his family were so good at.

‘That was quite a short story, really, wasn’t it?’ he asked, looking at the book as if it had done something terribly unexpected. ‘Should we have another one, do you think?’

‘Yes!’ came the fervent reply, and Bilbo had to laugh again as he heard Fíli describe Santa having a year quite as bad as Bilbo’s day, and how Christmas was saved with a little kindness and the help of the Man in the Moon. When Fíli finished, he looked over at Bilbo and winked.

‘Now,’ he said, in the confiding tone of one passing on a great secret. He leant towards the children, and each and every one leant towards him in turn, ‘usually my brother sings a song to you now, as part of our thank you to you and your families for shopping with us. It’s a good job he’s an alright singer, isn’t it? It wouldn’t be much of a thank you if he sounded like a cat being strangled!’

‘Like you, you mean?’ Kíli queried as the children, and a few of the adults, laughed. The younger brother had hopped up onto the stage and Fíli stuck his tongue out at him. Then he clapped his hand over his mouth with an exaggerated ‘oops’ look on his face as two voices exclaimed, ‘Fíli Durin!’

‘I’m in trouble now,’ he stage-whispered to the children, some of whom whispered back ‘ooohh’ in response.

‘Yes,’ Dís scolded, ‘you are. So go and sit in the corner and think about what you’ve done, or I might need to get my spoon out.’ She winked at the children, ‘I never actually use the spoon,’ she told them confidingly, ‘but _he_ doesn’t need to know that.’

There was more laughter and Dís sat in Fíli’s chair, while Thorin jumped onto the stage with a second chair and sat close to the microphone as well.

‘I’ll just sit here, shall I?’ Kíli said, pretending to be miffed, and plonked himself down next to Thorin with his head resting against his uncle’s leg. Thorin patted the top of his head gently.

‘Muuum,’ Fíli called over, still hamming it up for all he was worth. ‘I’ve thought about it now, can I come back?’

‘What do we think, Thorin?’ Dís asked, considering. ‘Shall we have him back?’

‘Oh, I think so,’ Thorin said, and he gave the children a smile so broad that Bilbo, captivated, found he couldn’t look away for anything. ‘It is Christmas, after all. It’s a time to forgive and be kind to people, isn’t it?’ There were loud sounds of agreement from the audience, so Dís patted her leg and beckoned, ‘Come on, then,’ to her son.

Bilbo, remembering nothing of this sort of performance last year, found himself utterly delighted by them. Maybe this was what kept customers coming back to the event year after year, to the bookshop year after year. This feeling that they were shopping somewhere where they really _knew_ the family of the ‘family-owned’ company.

‘Now,’ Dís said, probably not realising that she and her son shared this verbal tic, ‘as Fíli said, we normally leave the singing to Kíli. This year, however, when we heard the song he’d chosen, we decided that we wanted to do something different. This year, we’re going to sing it together as a family.’

‘Except Fíli,’ Kíli piped up, ‘because he sings like a strangled cat.’

‘Except Fíli,’ Dís said with great, if waning, patience, ‘who takes after his poor father and can’t hold a tune in a bucket. May I continue, dearest?’

‘Yes, Mum,’ Kíli said meekly. He winked at the children as soon as she looked away from him, and a spate of giggling broke out. Thorin tapped his head, and Bilbo saw him become serious now.

‘The song,’ Thorin told their audience, taking up the patter, ‘is one almost all of you will know, we think. It’s been very famous this year, and I’m sure you’ll all tell us it’s about a circus.’ There was burst of excited whispering among the children, which Thorin allowed to die down. ‘And it is about a circus, of course, but it’s about something more than that. It’s about imagination. That’s why it’s so important to us; because there’s nowhere better to sing about imagination than here – in a bookshop.’

He gestured around them, and Bilbo saw lots of little heads turning to look at the tables and shelves full of books all over the place.

Dís discreetly signalled to Ori, who’d set himself up next to the music player, and while they were distracted he hit the button.

 _I close my eyes and I can see / A world that’s waiting up for me / That I call my own…_ Dís began, and suddenly all eyes were on her again. There were huge smiles in the audience, most of whom, as predicted, had known the song as soon as she began to sing.

Kíli and Dís passed the lines back and forth between them, both with lovely light voices that tripped over the lyrics and wove their spell. Kíli had great fun with, _They can say I’ve lost my mind_ , and managed several laughs when he pointed at his mother and brother while he sang.

He wasn’t the only one to make the most of their surroundings. As Dís sang of a house to be built, full of special, wondrous things, she made sure to reinforce their point by looking at all the books again. Unsubtle, perhaps, but Bilbo thought it was doing the trick with one or two of the young ones.

And then, after a good couple of minutes, just as Bilbo was beginning to think that Thorin was sitting this one out as well, his deep bass joined the chorus ( _the brightest colours fill my head / A million dreams are keeping me awake)_ and Bilbo’s breath caught in his throat. He dropped away for a verse and a quieter section, then came back stronger than ever for the final chorus, signalling for the children to sing with them. When the song faded away, the pitch of the cheering nearly gave Bilbo a heart attack.

‘We need to get you used to crowds of small children,’ Bofur told him, laughing at his startled reaction.

On stage, Thorin was holding a hand up to try and quiet their small crowd, shaking his head with a grin when he had no success at all. He spoke quietly to Fíli and a moment later there was a shrill referee-style whistle.

Almost immediately silence began to descend.

‘Look at that,’ Thorin said to Dís, audible again. ‘Fíli _is_ useful for something!’

Turning his attention back to the customers, he finished up with, ‘We’ll open the shop again in a moment. Before you go, however, we wanted to wish you a wonderful Christmas, both from everyone at Goldmine and from the four of us personally. We hope Santa brings you what you wished for,’ he told the children, ‘if that happens to be a book, even better,’ he added, to the amusement of some of the parents, ‘but even if you don’t get a new book for Christmas, try to read something. That’s the important thing. Keep reading. Oh, and if you are buying something today, be patient with our newest cashier,’ he patted Dís on the head, ‘I’m told she’s a bit slow.’

‘She’s also _driving_ ,’ Dís countered, ‘and someone is going to be walking home at this rate. Have a lovely evening, ladies and gentlemen.’

Then they stepped off the stage and Bilbo breathed a small sigh of relief.

That was the one thing his predecessor hadn’t mentioned when she was talking about how important this event was, and how vital it was to prepare thoroughly, and how everything must be absolutely perfect.

She hadn’t mentioned how easy the family were to work with, and that they’d all muck in to make it go well.

If she had, he mightn’t have panicked so much.

Phew.

***

8.05pm, doors finally shut, and Bofur collapsed in a heap in the middle of the shop floor. Fili and Kíli took one look at him and promptly did the same thing, much to Dís’ amusement. Ori managed a little more dignity and at least found a chair.

‘I can’t feel my feet,’ Bofur groaned. ‘Bilbo, love, do I still have feet?’

‘I don’t know,’ Bilbo told him, with less concern than the question probably warranted. ‘My eyes have glued themselves shut.’

‘If someone knocks on the door, can someone who’s still able to move let them in?’ Ori asked, with admirable politeness. ‘Dori and Nori are picking me up so we can go through McDonalds on the way home.’

‘Your brother can bake like that and you’re eating McDonalds for tea?’ Thorin replied, though from the sound of his voice he was moving towards the door as he said it.

‘Nori said he’s not cooking anything else until Christmas Day,’ Ori stated. ‘He’s on strike.’

‘Poor Nori,’ Bilbo murmured through a yawn. ‘On strike from a job he’s not even been paid for ye… Jesus Christ, Bofur, WHAT?’

The latter came as they were all startled by Bofur whooping at the top of his voice.

‘It’s a girl!’ Bofur announced joyfully. ‘Message came through ages ago but I’ve only just seen it. I’ve got another little niece. Aww, look at you, pretty girl,’ he crooned to the picture on his phone screen. ‘Dalla, because she’s our little Christmas light.’

‘You need to go and see them and tell her how pretty she is in person,’ Bilbo pointed out, stretching forward so he could prod Bofur with one foot. ‘Not sit here with us. Go on. Get lost.’

‘This is why I am the charming friend,’ Bofur explained solemnly, ‘because you have all the charm of my Viking ancestors.’

‘Some of whom were no doubt poets and orators,’ Bilbo countered. ‘Get up, lazy, go see your niece.’

‘Can you fire someone as a best friend?’ Bofur asked the ceiling, before heaving himself to his feet. ‘I think you should be able to.’

‘Not when they’re your boss,’ Bilbo stated. ‘It’s career-limiting.’

The conversation would doubtless have continued the entire time that Bofur was preparing to leave, except that the knock Ori was expecting came just at that moment and Thorin opened the door to Dori and Nori. In the bustle of everyone telling Ori how wonderfully he’d done, and Ori getting thoroughly embarrassed, Bofur finally made it out the back door and on his way.

‘Right, _we_ ,’ Dís announced, once Ori too was gone, gesturing at Fíli and Kíli, ‘are going to go and grab fish and chips before the chippy closes.’ Bilbo tried to adjust his brain to the idea of rich and glamorous Dís Durin using the phrase “chippy”, or ordering food in one for that matter, and failed entirely. It had been a long day, he’d try again tomorrow. ‘Orders please.’

‘Oh, you don’t have to…’ Bilbo protested.

‘Orders. Please,’ Dís repeated. ‘Not silly objections from the man who just made our favourite work event of the year better than it’s ever been, despite the best attempts of the universe to derail it.’

Bilbo looked helplessly at Fíli and Kíli, who both shrugged.

‘What she said,’ Fíli told him.

‘Uh, steak and kidney pie and chips, please?’ Bilbo requested. ‘Salt, no vinegar.’

‘Perfect,’ Dís said. ‘Thorin, I know what you’re having. We’ll be back in a bit. Come on, you two.’

Then the door was closing behind her and Bilbo and Thorin were alone.

‘My sister, ladies and gentlemen,’ Thorin said wryly. ‘All the subtlety of an anvil.’

‘Do I want to know why she’s deliberately leaving us alone?’ Bilbo asked nervously. ‘I’m assuming I’m not being fired, considering she just said everything went well?’

‘ _Fired_?’ Thorin asked, horrified. ‘God, no, Bilbo. For a start, we couldn’t just fire you, you know that. Besides, why would we? Dís is right, your team did a wonderful job.’

‘Oh, good,’ Bilbo said weakly, relief combined with exhaustion and hunger making him a little dizzy. Thorin was right, he _had_ known he couldn’t be fired, in theory, but there’d still been this nagging paranoia all day.

Bilbo was a worrier, he couldn’t help it.

‘In that case…’ he began leadingly, hoping to prompt an explanation.

‘Do you even remember meeting me last year?’ Thorin questioned suddenly, rather out of nowhere, Bilbo felt.

‘Uh, no, not really,’ Bilbo answered, taken by surprise. ‘The whole event’s a bit of a blur really. I’d only worked here a month or so, and Harriet was leaving, and…’

‘Yes, I know,’ Thorin interjected. ‘When she announced she was going to move on, I shortlisted the CVs for your position. We’d made a mistake appointing her a couple of years before. She’d come from a big London shop, wanted a wage increase and the Manager title. She was good at the paperwork side of things, but she was constantly trying to turn this place into a “proper modern bookshop”. We had battle after battle with her over it. The fancy food Kíli mentioned earlier – she ordered high-end appetisers from a boutique bakery for an event aimed at children. Dís was bloody furious. Anyway, we were all looking forward to meeting her replacement but on the day, we could barely get her to produce you for more than a moment or two. Whenever she did you were clearly up to your eyeballs and thinking about the next thing that needed doing.’

‘I must have made quite the impression,’ Bilbo breathed, sounding just as horrified as he felt. Bloody hell, between that and this year, it was a wonder they _didn’t_ think he was a right ditz.

‘You did,’ Thorin confirmed, but something in his tone had Bilbo looking sharply at him. ‘You came up, shook my hand rather absently, muttered some pleasantries, and when you went off again Dís told me to put my tongue back in my mouth.’

Bilbo spluttered a laugh, not having expected that at all, and saw that Thorin looked rather embarrassed.

‘I’m only telling you this because she said she will when she gets back, in front of the boys, if I haven’t,’ he admitted. ‘Kíli’s a terrible gossip. I don’t want my business and your name spread all over the company because I’m a coward.’

‘I appreciate that,’ Bilbo managed, ‘but even if you do… think I’m nice to look at…,’ he stalled again.

‘I think you’re beautiful,’ which Bilbo thought was laughable, coming from this source, but never mind. ‘More than that, you were completely distracted with us, but a little boy stopped you thirty seconds later to ask about a Christmas present for his mum and you dropped everything for 15 minutes to help him find one.’

Bilbo couldn’t help but smile. ‘He wanted to get her a “book with a proper happy ending”,’ he recalled. ‘Nothing that would make her cry.’

‘So I knew you were both good at your job and kind,’ Thorin concluded. Bilbo was going to protest it was just the job, but Thorin held up his hand. ‘You could have passed him off to another member of staff. There were plenty of you around that day.’

‘Unlike today,’ Bilbo winced.

‘You and Bofur are both new in your roles,’ Thorin said gently. ‘He’s extremely laidback, anyone can see that, and you’ve been busy in the office a lot of the time. Some people think they see a weak spot and they take advantage of it, especially when you’re relying on seasonal staff.’

‘You know a lot about it considering you’ve only been here today,’ Bilbo said suspiciously.

‘I asked Ori some well-aimed questions,’ Thorin admitted. ‘I had a feeling, once I realised the three of you were manning the place alone. They were hunches based on experience. We ran this shop once, remember. Frerin, my brother, was too easy-going. Back then I was no good with people and hid in the office. We made it work in the end but… maybe I could make some suggestions, rather than you learning the hard way?’

Bilbo bit down his instinctive, mortified response and made himself think logically. Thorin was suggesting training, basically. Companies gave training to their managers. That was all it was. How stupid would he be to say no?

‘That would be very helpful, thank you,’ he accepted, and was treated to one of the warm smiles that made his knees weak.

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Thorin,’ Dís snapped, reappearing from the back of the shop and giving Bilbo the fright of his life. ‘Thank god I left the boys laying the food out in the back. I did _not_ organise this so you could talk to him about his Continuing Professional Development, for crying out loud!’

‘Dís, have you ever considered not interfering in my life?’ Thorin asked tiredly. ‘For the sake of novelty, perhaps?’

‘No,’ Dís said baldly. ‘I haven’t, because you bollocks it up when left to your own devices. Bilbo, my brother would like to take you on a date. I know he’s not making a very strong case for himself today, but I’m told he’s _very_ pretty. I don’t suppose you’d consider it on those grounds?’

Thorin began beating his head on a bookshelf.

Really, Bilbo thought, he had to agree on _those_ grounds.

It couldn’t possibly be healthy for someone to bash their head on a sturdy wooden shelf like that.

‘I would,’ he blurted out. ‘I really would.’ When Thorin spun around to look at him hopefully, he added, ‘Also, because I think you’re kind, too, for helping me out today and working with the others to give those children such a special moment.’

This time, the smile was beaming. Bilbo thought he might faint.

‘Perfect,’ Dís said happily. ‘You can go out for hot chocolate when Bilbo next has some time off. Thorin doesn’t drink coffee. For now, fish and chips!’

Then she headed purposefully for the back of the shop.

Thorin and Bilbo stared at each other a little dazedly.

‘I told you,’ Thorin said. ‘Subtle as an anvil.’

‘Yes,’ Bilbo agreed. ‘Effective though.’

‘I know,' Thorin admitted. ‘That’s why she gets away with it. And I think she wasn’t smacked enough as a child, but that’s an unpopular theory.’

Bilbo snorted, and silence fell, quickly becoming awkward again.

Then Thorin chuckled.

‘Oh, this is ridiculous,’ he said dryly, walking forward and grabbing Bilbo’s hand in a loose, warm grip. ‘We’re not in some romantic comedy that has to end with a kiss. You haven’t eaten since mid-morning. Dís is right: fish and chips.’

******

**Author's Note:**

> According to the internet, Dalla is a Norse name which means shining or luminous.
> 
> P.S. I'll never say no to more comments... ;)


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